


Stray Dogs

by eyemeohmy



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Body Worship, M/M, Master/Pet, Mild Sexuality, Not Very Healthy Relationship, Onesided PNP, Skeevy Jerks, Unrequited Crush, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream takes comfort in the stray he picked up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> An old fic from 2011 I did some editing on and posting here. Still, like to thank the original beta work from my friend, Sum.
> 
> From a tfanonkink prompt, which is basically Starscream having a pet Vehicon who enjoys cleaning/pleasuring his Master. However, I must stress plug and play as one-sided. It's more like refueling... actually that's basically what it is, lol.
> 
> Fic takes place after the episode "Rock Bottom". As this was written years ago, some things may be a bit off.

There were just some days where Starscream wanted to unscrew his head, wind it up for a pitch, and throw it at Megatron's face.

The impact would be so hard it would cave the warlord's face right into his skull. And if this could lead to his demise, all the better. But Starscream was pretty sure, one day, Megatron would rip his head off for him before he ever seriously considered it.

In conclusion, today had been utter shit.

Not that any other day was much better or brighter. Starscream worked with idiots. The drones were all incapable of holding up a fight for more than two minutes. That and for mindless slaves who could and would not dare question their superiors--and despite their doubts, Starscream still _was_ their superior--they were quite reluctant to take _his_ orders.

They needed Megatron's backup, like a bunch of hatchlings. Knock Out was about as reliable as Swindle's promises; the medic ought to change his profession to a freelancing freeloader. Breakdown, while semi-competent, still could not shake off the shame brought by the MECH incident. Airachnid was nearly as bad in her "free spirit" as Knock Out, and Soundwave? Haha, no. Just as Starscream took every chance to backstab Megatron, Soundwave was always willing to plant a knife in Starscream's.

Long and stressful were the days and those of success and victory seemed to be forgotten, cherished memories. Starscream blamed it on their leader. Sure, it's not like he'd been completely victorious on his own, but unlike his semi-psychotic warlord, he was always so _veeeerryyy_ close. That and the Seeker was more focused and, you know, not as... _touched_ , to put it nicely and lightly.

And so Starscream would ignore the fact he'd spend more of his time sulking and/or scheming than getting any actual work done. Whatever order he was given, he was reluctant to take.

Megatron had it out for him. Oh, sure, Starscream always knew the Decepticon leader was going to attempt to off him once and for all one of these days. Ha! Let Megatron try!

Which... he did, actually.

The incident at the old energon mine had been the straw that broke the snarling, frustrated tyrant's back. Begging and pleading had been the Seeker's only option at the time, though the moment Megatron hesitated, even for just a second, he was going to make a direct beeline for the exit. That or attempt to drive one of the drills into the bastard's spark.

Insert Autobots, the cave-in, his reluctant return; the taste of victory was near as the glower on the bulky, dimwitted Autobot's face he dug his claw into. But then the tiny, obnoxious human just had to make it out alive--seriously, how was it _everyone_ survived!?--and ruin everything. Stuck like Atlas with death approaching inch by inch to squash him like a bug. Screaming and shrieking for mercy just as a child would to his freed leader (well, at least his paranoia had been warranted) was the only reason he was still alive. Badly damaged, covered in dirt and grime, but functioning.

When Starscream and Megatron returned to base, the former flying ahead of the latter so he could watch his every move, all the Seeker wanted to do was recharge and forget today's incident ever happened. But as the two stepped inside the base, Soundwave waiting silent and patient, Megatron reached over and grabbed his second-in-command tightly by the head. 

Starscream gasped as plating dented slightly beneath hard pressed claws; he was yanked back, forced around to meet the threatening, foreboding glare of his leader.

"Do not think you are safe, Starscream," Megatron growled, "your life still hangs in the balance."

Starscream widened his optics. "But, Master, I--"

Megatron yanked him forward, up until his feet just dangled slightly in free air and they were face to face. Starscream winced, the scent of dried energon, oil and dirt hot on Megatron's breath. "We have much to discuss," the tyrant said, his tone dangerously amused. "And if you value your future, you will meet me on the bridge within one hour."

The Seeker gulped. "Yes, Lord Megatron, of course."

Megatron smiled darkly; it was fleeting, replaced with a disappointed frown. He shoved Starscream aside, leaving the lanky 'Con to scramble and catch his balance against the wall. He cowered beneath the glare before Megatron marched onward, heavy footfalls causing the ground to vibrate softly.

Starscream looked up to find Soundwave staring down at him; the look he gave the silent communication's officer was enough to kill. But it did nothing to deter or disturb Soundwave (nothing did, really); silence was his reply before he trailed after Megatron like the loyal lapdog he was.

Starscream rubbed his head, grimaced bitterly at the dents. This was both the perfect and inappropriate time to contemplate revenge, seeing as he was still skating on very thin ice. He shook his sore head and quickly opened a commlink. "Knock Out," he spat, "what's your status?"

There was no response from the other end. Starscream waited a few seconds before sending another transmission. "Knock Out," he snapped, "you had _better_ be in medbay where you belong." Still nothing. Starscream shivered furiously, voice lowering and spitting, "If I find you are off somewhere joyriding and not on duty, I will have your obnoxiously red hide, do. You. Copy?"

Starscream gathered to his feet and stormed to the sickbay. And, of course, Knock Out wasn't there. Starscream felt the returning rage bubble beneath his spark. He tapped lightly at his temple, growled, "Breakdown-- Is Knock Out with you?"

 _Negative._ A response! The Pit has frozen over! _I believe he's out scouting._

" _Sightseeing_ , you mean?" Starscream spat.

_Well, Soundwave was the one who gave him the orders. You should talk to him._

The last thing Starscream wanted to do was speak with that creepy, treacherous glitch-rat. 

Not that he had any room to talk, but... 

The Seeker's entire chassis shook with fury and his farewell to Breakdown came out as a loud, frightening snarl. With the communication cut, Starscream swung a fist into the medbay's control panel. It broke with a loud _crunch_ , short circuiting as buttons popped free. Starscream retracted his hand, ignored the small metal tears on his knuckles. He'd been through enough pain that everything was going numb.

The Seeker stood there a moment, contemplating what to do next. There was no dire need for a medic. Starscream paused, suddenly struck with the best idea. 

Of course! It wasn't medical attention he needed. His frown quirked slightly, just so before he turned quickly on heels and marched to his quarters. With a soft _click_ , he opened another comm link.

\----

The Vehicons and Eradicons had all been fitted with the same design, much like soldiers wore certain uniforms. The latter outranked the former, but not by much. It was their gift of flight that made them superior to their lower brethren. Beyond that, they were the same level of skill and intelligence.

While the soldiers showed some signs of sentience and sapience, a handful were considered drones with no sense of emotion or self-awareness. They simply did as they were told and did not question orders. 

It was too bad soldiers built purely for war were practically useless outside of fighting. And a defunct Vehicon was just pathetic. The lowest on the food chain. In fact, if a Vehicon or Eradicon showed even the slightest of damage, they were to be deactivated or given the dirtiest of jobs. And while most could hold up their end, there were a few missing a couple nuts and bolts, so to speak. They never lasted long; either because they were just too weak or their superiors ordered their demise like some sort of mercy kill.

It was not to say, however, these dysfunctional drones were complete wastes. In battle, they were obstacles, if anything, maybe decoys. But with a little reprogramming... 

Starscream had seen to the inspections of the first wave of Vehicons for the army's consideration. Immediately he picked out two slackers, and while one of them was fated to die that evening, the other... He had studied the Vehicon a few moments longer than need be. They were easy to spot, the malfunctions, but it wasn't because Starscream was second guessing his judgment...

Starscream stepped back and looked up. He snapped his fingers and a one-eyed Decepticon approached him. "Shockwave," he said, pointed to the seemingly apathetic Vehicon, "I want this reject delivered to my quarters."

"Lord Megatron has no use for malfunctions." Shockwave's optic was trained harshly on the Seeker, as if he wasn't speaking about the drone.

"I said _my_ quarters," Starscream growled. "Or are you just as bad at hearing as you are shooting?"

Shockwave's single optic darkened. "As you wish," he said simply. He hated the Seeker to the very core of his being, but he was his superior. For now. And Megatron needed him. For now. Shockwave turned to the Vehicon and took his shoulder. "You there, VC701," he said, voice nearly booming, "come with me."

The drone followed obediently. As soon as they were out of ear shot, Shockwave added, "You are to serve Commander Starscream personally. I fear your fate is worse than deactivation."

\----

The doors to the Air Commander's room slid open. Darkness poured out from within, shaping his menacing silhouette against the light.

Starscream stepped inside, doors closing behind him. The light switched on immediately, revealing very little furnishing and personal touch. With a low, tired growl he swept the spike protruding from his nose piece back, in the same manner a human would slide their fingers through their hair. The aggravation was still thrumming in his circuits and he moved heavily toward the center of the room.

A body-length mirror cast his reflection. He winced at the sight of all the dirt caking his features. "Scrapheap," he snapped, optics still on his reflection, "are you here?"

There was a soft shuffling from the corner of the room. The weak Vehicon emerged, carrying a bucket. He followed his commander as he moved to the plush stool sat neatly in the middle of the room. The Vehicon Scrapheap stood before him, sized him head to toe.

"I've no need to explain things to the likes of you," Starscream grumbled. He waved a hand at him. "Clean me."

Scrapheap nodded and quickly rung out the wet cloth. He stepped behind the Seeker, a few feet taller, pressing the rag against his back. He worked in slow, circular motions, removing both the grime as well as relaxing the tired, aching dermal plating.

Starscream purred, instantly melting into the touch. "Ahhh, yes, that's it."

Scrapheap's optical visor brightened. He carefully moved the rag up and down between shoulder and neck and Starscream tilted his head, giving him more room to clean the seams. The Vehicon quickly washed out the cloth, bringing it back to polish his shoulders. 

"All I want to do is recharge," the Seeker spat, "but it seems Megatron has not quite forgiven me."

Scrapheap nodded, massaging the rag against nape and cables. Starscream hummed and dropped his head forward. "And after risking my life to save his! You'd think the ungrateful rust bucket would just let it go. 'Forgive and forget,' so the meatsacks here would say."

The Vehicon nodded, slipping the rag around the sides of his neck. He let it trail down Starscream's back in a clean line, until it reached the edge of his back strut. 

Starscream tittered. "I am not afraid, however," he insisted, "as I was not afraid when he had his cannon trained on me in the mines. No, no. I told him he was a fool for wanting to dispose of me, his greatest soldier and most valuable asset." He raised his arm, the warm coolant soaking into seams. "Without me, he would be nothing."

Scrapheap gently wrapped his claws around his Master's wrist, held out his arm. It almost appeared as if they were going to break out into a waltz any second now. Instead, he silently smeared the rag along the length of his limb, back and forth, leaving dirty water to drip from the silver armor.

"I can say the same about you, don't you think?" Starscream sneered. The Vehicon lowered his arm, moved quickly around to take the second and ministrate the same treatment. "You would have become your namesake if not for my intervention. Nothing but rubble beneath mounds of trash."

Scrapheap's thumb caressed over his Master's dented knuckles, appreciative. 

Starscream's smirk was pleased. "Good. You understand. I wish certain _others_ would, too."

With his back, arms and sides mostly cleaned, the Vehicon moved to kneel before the foot stool. Starscream raised his foot, Scrapheap gently taking him by the heel. With expert precision, he began massaging it clean. The Seeker watched him closely, at the way he both meticulously and gently applied his work. 

Starscream's optics shuddered as the rag slipped between seams along the top of his foot, ankle, and heel. "You've become quite the professional," he noted. "You used to be so clumsy. I've trained you well. We've had no use for the electric prod in a while now, have we?" He finished with a demeaning chortle.

Scrapheap nodded. He held Starscream's thin ankle delicately, palming the moist rag up the front. 

"Though lately, your skills seemed to have improved," Starscream observed. "It is no longer a chore for you now. You are _enjoying_ this, aren't you?"

The Vehicon made a small hum. He stroked a finger down ankle to the sharp tip of his Master's pede as he continued working along his calf. That was a definite 'yes.' 

Starscream purred, hiding most of his elation. "Nothing brings you more pleasure than servicing me," he said. 

Scrapheap responded by sending feather light touches along seams between knee and thigh.

The Seeker shivered. "You owe me your life," Starscream continued boasting, "and so I have every right to take it if I so desire."

The Vehicon nodded, cloth scrubbing beneath one thigh. Suddenly, the sharp edge of a claw was hooked beneath his elongated chin. Scrapheap looked up into his Master's optics, full of energy.

"If you had a tongue, you'd be licking me clean, wouldn't you?" he snickered. Scrapheap tilted his head in agreement, his hands raising to cup the Seeker's hips--Starscream pushed his head down. "You're not finished."

Scrapheap's optical visor flashed briefly. He caught Starscream's chest, his Decepticon badge covered in soot. He slowly stood, never attempting to reach full height before his commander; always cower, always appear inferior. The cloth moved in swift back-forth motions, the metal gleaming as the grime was washed away.

Starscream hummed, optics shutting as the cool liquid soaked and streaked down his armor.

Scrapheap went to take the rag to his face, but hesitated. Starscream half-grinned pearly denta. "Very good," he cooed. No one touched his face; not without permission. Not if he could help it. He plucked the cloth from the Vehicon's hands, quickly giving his face and helm a wipe-over. He dropped it back in Scrapheap's hands. "Though, honestly, I don't think this is the best you can do."

Scrapheap looked up from soaking the cloth. For a moment, Starscream could swear his blank face expressed fear and shock. As if the idea was simply preposterous. 

Good. 

"Show me the extent of your dedication," Starscream crooned.

The smaller Decepticon swallowed. He caught Starscream's wings flicker. If he failed... Scrapheap squeezed out the excess water from the rag and went to his Master's first wing. A sharp optic followed his moments. Scrapheap gently touched the wing, felt it stiffen momentarily. Vents cycling nervously, the Vehicron started to wash Starscream's wings.

Seeker wings weren't nearly as sensitive as the stories went; it didn't make sense for them to be. But for Starscream, his wings were as sensitive as his massive ego. Even one little fuck up--pushing down too hard, touching too long--could send Scrapheap flying across the room with a blast to the chest. He still had a couple scars from previous reprimands.

But this time--this time he knew exactly where to touch and just the amount of pressure to apply. And it seemed to be working, because Starscream was going limp, his wings fluttering in a response that meant Scrapheap was doing everything right. The Vehicon kept focus; the one time he was praised, he became too bold and that ended up screwing him over in the end. He still had a painful kink in his backstrut to vouch for it.

It was routine, and Scrapheap kept his strokes safe and calculated. Starscream reclined forward, his back arching in feline fashion, talons running down the length of his spine. His system was whirring in a dark hum. The space between his wings also counted as cautious, and the Vehicon massaged a few circles at the very center.

A twitch and he froze; Starscream relaxed, and so he continued.

The flight home had removed most of the dirt from Starscream's chassis. The rag was still relatively clean when Starscream straightened and Scrapheap obediently stepped away. 

Starscream reached back, swiped a finger along his right wing before inspecting it. He rubbed digit against his thumb, examined both. His expression showed neither approval or disgust. "Mediocre," he grunted, "but it'll do."

Scrapheap felt something in his spark drop. He felt so ashamed. The Seeker did not turn as he gestured him over. "But," he hummed, and the Vehicon lifted his head, "I suppose you have earned your reward."

Scrapheap felt his enthusiasm hit the ceiling. He knew what this meant! It's all he ever asked for! All he ever really wanted!

The excited Vehicon scuttled around his Master, dropped to his knees before the stool, rag discarded. Starscream shifted his leg forward, and the Vehicon took his foot in hand again. But this time he lowered his head, face caressing the top of his boot. He nuzzled it, fondled at the heel-turbine, and the Seeker's vents hitched.

Keeping hold of his spindly leg, Scrapheap brushed his face and the side of his helm further up until he was between his superior's legs, mock-kissing the inside of his thigh.

Starscream swept his hand across the back of his servant's helm, snickered. "Good boy~"

Scrapheap shivered with delight. He gently pawed at his Master's hips. Before Starscream could say anything, a soft beep alerted him of an incoming transmission. He tapped his temple, grumbled, "What is it, Breakdown?"

_Knock Out's returned. I told him you were looking for him._

Starscream rolled his optics. Of all the times-- "Tell him to meet me in the medbay in ten minutes. If I am not there sooner, tell him to wait. Even if it takes hours." It was only proper punishment. He cut the link before Breakdown could respond. The Seeker snorted at the kneeling Vehicon, still worshiping his leg. "I'll need that hack to check my internals before I meet with Megatron."

Scrapheap hummed, understanding. He still clung to Starscream's leg, however. "But as I said," Starscream purred and flicked at his cheek, "I've still got time to kill." He groped at his chest, over the Decepticon symbol. "And between now, my repair job with Knock Out and Megatron's senile ranting--should I survive and return to my quarters instead of fleeing--I won't have time to refuel." He sneered, oily and suggestive. "It would seem I need to borrow some energy before I go. Just enough to keep me online for the next few hours."

The Vehicon understood completely, and was all too willing. His frame was jittery with joy. He released his Master's leg and stood, his chestplates shifting aside to reveal a nest of black circuitry. Starscream wordlessly held out his hand, and Scrapheap took it, leading him to the bare berth nearby.

The Seeker relaxed and reclined back, propping himself up on his elbows. He grinned wolfishly as the Vehicon settled both knees against his hips, reaching for the wiring inside. Starscream clicked his chest, two small panels opening to reveal sockets. Two cables unwound around Scrapheap's fingers; Starscream could see they were attached to his small but pulsating spark chamber.

Starscream kept his hands to himself, didn't bother to help. Scrapheap quickly plugged the cables into his Master's sockets. The connection established a soft whirr between their systems, and the Seeker could instantly feel all the warm devotion and love from his pet pass through him. 

Scrapheap, however, felt nothing; the connection was one-sided. But he didn't mind. As long as it pleased his commander, that was all he desired. He was happy.

Starscream need not issue any further commands. As soon as Scrapheap was prepared, his Master waiting with a dull expression on his face, sent a mental command throughout his entire chassis. Moments later and the Seeker groaned, fuel pouring from Scrapheap's system into his own. 

The Vehicon slowed down, not wanting to force feed too much at once. His hands hovered at Starscream's hips, but never touched.

With each heave and command, Starscream felt more and more energy fill his weary spark. Scrapheap gave as much as he could, and thensome. His limbs began to feel weak and numb. But he kept going, watching as his Master shivered with delight and rejuvenation beneath him. Small sparks danced at the edge of the plugged cables.

Each jolt had Starscream snickering. Dark and mischievous and full of giddy delight. His processors absorbed each current like sponges, soaking and sending the new energy into the more exhausted sectors of their host body.

Scrapheap could feel his own CPU swim as his intakes and HUD flashed internal warning alerts. Starscream noticed he was weakening; he raised a hand, long talons wrapping tight around his servant's arm.

 _Keep going_ , the grip ordered, claws digging into the armor.

Scrapheap was all too eager to please his Master, always so, so eager. Even if it meant deactivating himself. Surely Starscream would not allow him to die, however. But even as he continued bleeding himself dry, his processors tried to reason with him. Tell him if he continued much longer, he would go offline. Which would be fine; unconscious but alive. But if he drained himself too much, auto-pilot would kick in and immediately force him to disconnect.

And Starscream would _not_ appreciate that.

The Seeker was hungry, continuing to swallow every ounce. Scrapheap knew he had to sense his body was weakening, his system trying to stop the process. But Starscream didn't care, and the Vehicon believed it was his right not to. After all, his fate could have been much, much worse.

That and Starscream's moans were enough to silence those nagging, pleading voices.

Scrapheap's vision began to cloud. Functions were on the verge of shutting down. The warning ping on his HUD told him just one more minute and _finis_. The Vehicon gave something of a low groan, and just before he was about to collapse on top of the Seeker, Starscream yanked one cable out of his chest.

Something clicked and Scrapheap lifted his head, watched as his Master ripped out the second.

"Still too weak," Starscream grumbled. He pushed Scrapheap back; not too hard. He wasn't as angry as he sounded, otherwise the Vehicon would find himself flying across the room. Scrapheap wiggled back and away, sudden dizziness nearly knocking him over.

Starscream gathered to his feet, closing chest panels. He marched across the room, Scrapheap attempting to follow him with static-laced vision.

Had he failed his Master? Had he not given him enough? Was he going to punish him? Worse--was he going to throw him away?

"Refuel quickly," the Seeker ordered. He returned, dropping a gun in the worried Vehicon's hand. Scrapheap's visor flash-blinked at the weapon; he looked up, curious and confused and still weary. "I've a mission for you, should things go south."

Scrapheap stood, knees buckling. "If Breakdown decides not to keep his word, you are to take his place," Starscream stated. He dug a talon beneath the Vehicon's chin, forced him to meet gazes. "Though you are useless on the battlefield, your devotion will come in quite handy. Besides." He paused to sweep a thumb across Scrapheap's face. "In the right position, with a good enough aim and just the right weapon, you'll make a decent sniper."


End file.
